I praised the myrtle and the rose, At sunrise in their beauty vying; I passed them at the short day's close, And both were dying. The summer sun his rays was throwing Brightly; yet ere I sought my rest, His last cold ray, more deeply glowing, Died in the west. After this bleak world's stormy weather, All, all, save Love alone, shall die; For Faith and Hope shall merge together In Charity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HOCK-CART, OR HARVEST HOME by ROBERT HERRICK DOROTHY Q; A FAMILY PORTRAIT by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE TARRY BUCCANEER by JOHN MASEFIELD PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 8 by EDWARD TAYLOR THE AGE OF WISDOM by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY HYMN ON SOLITUDE by JAMES THOMSON (1700-1748) |